


A Girl worth Fighting For

by supremethunder



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Interracial Relationship, Reader-Insert, Steve Rogers/African American!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supremethunder/pseuds/supremethunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing up as a woman of color during the 1940s, you were either looked down upon or ignored because of your gender and race.  Unfortunately, it was to be expected since you were living in a time where racism and discrimination is prominent. What you didn’t expect was to encounter a young man who would not only acknowledge you but also fight for you. </p><p>Pre-Serum Steve Rogers/African-American!Reader</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Girl worth Fighting For

**Author's Note:**

> I've been on a roll with these one-shots. I've been meaning to write a reader-insert portrayed as a woman of color for a while now. Even though I state the reader is portrayed as a black woman, I don't really give a description for how she looks to prevent anyone from feeling ostracized reading this. Note that this one-shot takes place BEFORE Captain America. I hope you all enjoy this piece. ^-^

It was the end of your shift as a member of the Nurse Corps, and you were exhausted. You just completed your first week of training and you were left feeling mentally and physically drained, but you also felt a sense of satisfaction. With your tenacity, determination, and passion, you managed to become one of 56 African-American women to be hired on the Nurse Corps. You managed to prove racist and sexist naysayers wrong that a woman of color could make a difference in their society. After you bid some of your co-workers to enjoy their weekend, you grabbed your purse and headed for the bus stop to catch a ride home.  


_I should treat myself to something sweet before I go home…maybe to some of those M &Ms or York Peppermint Patties I’ve been hearing so much about._ You licked your lips at the thought of having the taste of chocolate or peppermint dancing on your taste buds.

It was about a fifteen minute wait before your bus pulled up to your stop. You stepped onto the bus, ignoring the distasteful look on the bus driver’s face as you paid your bus fare. It was a look you were sadly accustomed to, but you simply ignored it and found a seat in the back by the window. You leaned your head against the window and stared ahead as the bus continued driving along. As your eyes lazily wandered your surroundings, you spotted a young man with short blond hair engrossed in his sketchbook. You couldn’t help but notice the earnest look in his eyes as his pencil danced across the paper. As if sensing your gaze, the young artist looked up from his drawing and in your direction.

 _Oops…_ you blushed and mentally chastised yourself for your blatant staring. 

To your surprise, instead of being met with a look of derision or disdain, he simply returned your gaze with a short nod and flashed a small smile before he returned to his drawing. It was a simple act of acknowledgement, but oddly it sent your heart aflutter. It had been quite some time since a man looked at you that way. It was quite refreshing.  


The warm feeling in your heart was quickly replaced with a feeling of dread when a thickset Caucasian man got on the bus. Compared to the artist, the man’s skin wasn’t as pale and he had a bit more muscle to him. You focused your eyes on the floor when you suddenly felt his gaze on you.

 _Is this punishment for staring at that guy earlier?_ You wondered as you hoped and prayed you would be left alone.

Your wishes seemed to go unanswered when you realized the thickset man that stepped on the bus was now standing in front of you.

“Hey, gimme your seat.” He demanded with a smirk.

“But…there are other empty seats at the front of the bus.” You said, gesturing to the empty seats up front.

“Are you deaf?! I said give me your seat, lady!” you flinched as he raised his voice. “You think just because you’re wearing that uniform that makes you special? You need to remember your place and move when you’re told.”

The man could’ve had any seat he wanted, and yet he chose to harass you to move from yours. As much as you wanted to insist he could sit up front, you decided to hold your tongue in favor of avoiding further confrontation.

Before you could stand up and move to another seat, the artist you were staring at earlier stood up first.

“Hey, why don’t you just leave her alone?” the young man shut his sketch book. “There are plenty of other seats on this bus.”

Both you and your harasser were taken aback by the fact that someone actually stood up for you. The man you labeled your harasser sauntered toward the man you labeled your savior. Unlike you, your savior didn’t seem bothered by the risk of escalating the confrontation.

“You wanna try saying that again, pal?” Your harasser snarled.

You could tell by the look in your savior’s eyes that he was a little intimidated by your harasser’s tall build, and you certainly didn’t blame him. He was almost twice his size, but his courage didn’t waiver.

“I said, leave her alone. She didn’t do anything wrong. The only thing wrong is that you’re harassing her when she’s been minding her own business.” Your savior defended.

You let out a startled gasp as your harasser drove his fist right into your savior’s stomach.

“I suggest you take your own advice before you start telling me what to do.”

 _No…_ you watched your savior fall to his knees and clutch his stomach, writhing in pain. It was painful to watch him struggle to get back on his feet considering his fragile looking build. You both feared for him and envied him. You feared for his safety, but also envied him for his courage to stand up for what he believed in.

You grabbed onto the seat in front of you for support when the bus came to an abrupt halt. The bus driver turned around and glared at the two men.

“If you boys want to fight go do it someplace else, but not on my bus!” the bus driver said. “The last thing I need is to clean blood off my floors.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Your harasser said. He grabbed your savior by the collar of his shirt and dragged him off the bus.

“Wait, please!” You grabbed your purse and the sketchbook your savior left behind before you followed after them in a futile attempt to stop them.

“It’s fine!” your savior said. “I’ve got this under control.”

 _Under control my ass! That guy is bad news._ As much as you wanted to step in and intervene, you could only watch helplessly as your harasser resumed throwing a barrage of punches at your savior until he was satisfied with his work.

“Maybe next time you’ll learn to think twice before opening that mouth of yours.”

You waited until your harasser left before you rushed to your savior’s side, and placed a hand on his shoulder as you knelt down beside him. “Are you all right?”

“I will be.” He reassured and wiped the blood dripping from his nose. “Are you?”

“Oh, don't worry about me.” You pulled out a handkerchief from your purse before you handed it to him. “I’m not the one covered in blood and bruises.”

Your harasser had come out of the fight unscathed, but your savior was left with quite a few battle scars: a swollen eye that began to turn a light shade of purple, a bloody nose, a swollen and bruised cheek, and a busted lip.

“I suppose so…” he took your handkerchief with a small smile, but cringed when the cut on his lip began to bleed. “You sure I can use this?"

“Of course; it's the least I could do. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of much help to you.”

Even if there were people around to help, you knew if you were the one asking for it, people would have turned a blind eye and looked the other way.

“Don't apologize. The last thing I wanted was for you to get involved and get hurt.” 

“Can you stand?”

“Think so…”

You offered your hand to him, which he gratefully took as you helped him to his feet. He stood upright and dusted off his clothes before he used the handkerchief to wipe off any traces of blood on the corner of his mouth and nose. When he was finished, he looked at you unsure of what to do with the bloody handkerchief.

"That's okay. I wanted you to have it any way.” You handed him back his sketchbook. “Oh, and before I forget, I grabbed this for you. I figured it was pretty important."

He looked down at the sketchbook slightly awestruck before his blue eyes met your gaze. “...Thank you.”

It was baffling to you. The man who stood up for you and got his butt kicked for it was thanking you? For a moment you couldn’t help but wonder if the guy was bonkers. Whether or not he was, he definitely deserved your gratitude.

“I should be the one thanking you after what you did.” You said. “What you did was very brave, heroic even.”

“You’re too kind, ma’am.” He said and shook his head. “I wouldn’t call what I did heroic, so much as being a decent human being. Nobody deserves to be treated the way you were tonight.”

“Please, call me [Name].” you insisted with a grateful smile.

“[Name]…” he repeated your name. “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers.”

“Well, Steve, is there any way that I can repay you for what you’ve done for me tonight?”

“There’s no need to do that, ma’am, I mean, [Name]. Really.” Steve quickly corrected himself.

“The least I could do is tend to your wounds. That is my job after all.”

“Well, I would certainly appreciate it.”

As you and Steve walked the last few blocks to your apartment, you led him inside your home and into the living room.

“Could you wait here for a minute while I gather my supplies?”

“Not at all,” Steve shook his head before he took a seat on your sofa. “Take your time.”

You made a beeline for your room and grabbed the first aid kit under your bed. You took what you needed before you returned to the living room and placed your supplies on the table in front of Steve. After picking any dirt or debris from his cut with some tweezers, you helped Steve wash the wound with cold water and soap. You applied a small adhesive bandage on the cut before you treated his swollen eye and cheek with the ice packs you made with wet wash cloths wrapped in a small bag of ice.

“You’ll want to keep that on the swollen area for at least fifteen minutes to reduce the blood flow and numb the pain.” You advised.

“Will do,” Steve nodded. “Thank you…”

“Don’t mention it.”

The both of you remained silent until you decided to ask the burning question that had been bothering you since Steve stood up for you.

“I know it’s rather silly of me to ask this… but why?” You asked.

“Why?” Steve said confused.

“Why did you help me?”

“That guy was nothing more than a bully and I don’t like bullies.”

“It really meant a lot that you did, Steve. Nobody had ever stood up for me before the way you did. "

“Hey, some things in life are worth fighting for…”

At that moment you felt like crying. It was suddenly beyond baffling to you how a man like Steve existed. You’d swear it was like seeing something right out of a fairy-tale. Sure, he wasn’t your typical brawny knight and shining armor, but that didn’t matter to you. What he lacked in muscle and tall stature he made up for with his kind-hearted nature and valor. You suddenly wanted to show your appreciation with more than just nursing his wounds.

“I hope I’m not being too forward by asking you this, Steve, but would you like to stay for dinner?”

Surprisingly, Steve answered with a soft smile before he said, “Yeah… I’d like that.”


End file.
